The Dark Side
by TheMusicManiac
Summary: This is a second crack at posting this, because the first time was... weird. Bunch of numbers and gibberish and and whatnot. So, this is a one shot of Italy dealing with Luciano, and kinda vice versa. Read and review please! Reviews are WONDERFUL! (And it's only got "horror" as a category for blood, fyi)


Authors Notes: Hello! I'm listening to America's songs right now... He's so weird... ANYWAY, lately the Italians in Hetalia have really peaked my interest, especially Luciano aka Dark!Italy/2pItaly, depends on if you're a Wattpad or person. So I decided to write a one shot! Enjoy!

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No matter what Feliciano did, Luciano was always there in the back of his mind to mock him. The man cursed Italy's kind ways and happy nature, suggesting he do horrible things simply to mess with people's heads. He didn't want him there, but he couldn't push him out. Every country had their mistakes, and Luciano was there to remind him of them.  
>But right now, Feliciano wasn't sure if he could keep him at bay any longer. Immediately upon arriving home from a party, he collapsed on the floor by the couch and let go of his tears. Luciano had been suggesting more morbid things than usual... Most of which included brutally wounding and killing the people that he talked to at the party if they even did one annoying thing, telling him to feign innocence to lure someone into trust and an empty room and from there... He didn't want that, any of it! But no matter what he did, he couldn't get the images that Luciano had put there OUT, like they were stuck there with super glue. He pulled his knees into his chest, wanting more than anything for the madness to stop.<p>

No such luck. A light, hair-raising touch around his neck caused his pupils to dilate out of fear.

"Ciao, Italia... Come stai?" The slow casualty of it was drawn out into mockery, all in a sweet lulling voice and his native language.

"Go... Go away, Luciano..." Feli managed between shallow breaths. He had never been very assertive, so getting him to leave wouldn't work like he wished it would.

Hands snaked their way down his neck to his blue tie from behind. "But I love to be with you, Feli... Don't you? We always have so much fun..." He purred as the cold metal of his knife touched Italy's throat.

"I don't- I mean, you always-" Words weren't forming, which was rare for the naturally talkative Northern Italian.

"I know, our ideas of fun are a little different... But I enjoy myself, and that's all that matters isn't it?" Italy yelped in pain as the dagger sliced a thin red line on his neck sharply, causing the darker-haired man holding it to giggle. "Oh hush now, it wasn't even deep. You know I can do worse." There he was, his dark purple eyes laughing at Italy's fearful chocolate ones. The essence of hate, wrath, and vengeance, with a particular flair for knife-handling, Luciano was the dark side of the normally happy-go-lucky nation. If his eyes could've been any wider, they would've been. He knew full well just how capable Luciano was of hurting him, it was just the question of...

"W-Why?" Feli managed. "Why do you want to hurt me? What did I ever do? Perché?!" He screamed, demanding an answer that Luciano had never given. Maybe he would this time.

All he did was laugh and skillfully make another cut in his skin, this time on his cheek. "Can't you see the reason? You know my head just as well as I know yours; you've been inside it." Blood trickled down his fair skin. "My logic is simple, ragazza..." He spat the Italian word like a curse, with a wide grin. "Because I love to see you BLEED."

Luciano towered above Feliciano, leaving him to cower by the arm of the couch on the floor. Running was pointless; he'd see it as a petty game. He'd just have to take it again, and hopefully he wouldn't die by his hand. Or rather, his knife. Tears continued to flow in endless torrents down his face, and he didn't try to stop them. He was too weak NOT to cry; it was just something he did. He was so hopeless.

Italy cried out as the knife tore through the fabric of his sleeve and the skin beneath with practiced ease, Luciano's hysterical giggle filling his ears with a lilting song of pure insanity. Again, again, and again, the attacks kept coming, blood soaking his clothes.

"You should see your face! It looks AMAZING tear-stained and full of fear, it's really a good look for you Italia!"

"Luciano, perché?! PER FAVORE, SMETTERE!" Italy screamed, desperately pleading with the man to stop while clutching his head and mussing his hair. Enough was enough. At this rate, he would...

"But you look so wonderful this way, Feliciano... Human fragility is a beautiful thing, don't you know? One cut and that hot red liquid called blood oozes out, staining everything it touches. It's so amazing; it's addicting to look at you know?" He spoke softly, looking down on the petrified Italian. "Anyone should be able to understand addiction because we've all been through it. Everyone gets addicted to something; it's natural. Humans crave routine, something to hang on to while the world spins. For me, bloodlust is what I see as my constant. All those variables in the way, that threaten to change my constant... They need to be rid of before they do just that. Variables like innocence, like useless conversation, like normalcy. I just want to see the pretty red flowers called human beings open all their petals to the sun; is that so bad? All of the beauty is trapped inside a cage of flesh, and I've come to RELEASE IT." Devilish purple eyes demanded the attention of Italy's own, though he would rather run away and avert his gaze than drown in Luciano's madness. ""

"You... You're insane... Please stop..." He could barely speak. The dark haired man frowned like a spoiled child who just heard the word "no".

"Italia, we can't have this disagreement. I might have to do something bad if we can't compromise on our ideals. Maybe we can agree to disagree on our separate ideas of fun; then I can keep playing!" Eyes widening and his frown turning to an angry grimace, the knife plunged into Italy's stomach with sudden force. Red soaked his shirt now and splattered when Luciano pulled out the weapon. Blood stained Feliciano's lips and chin when he tried to speak. Garbled sound escaped as Luciano came very close to his face.

"And the flower blooms... You are so beautiful, Feliciano Vargas, I hope you know that." A door slammed. "I'm so glad we're one in the same..."

"He is NOTHING like you, you BASTARD!" A gun fired, and Luciano collapsed onto Italy, who coughed up blood on the floor beside him. The last sound from Italy's dark double was a weak, muffled giggle, then the light in his eyes died.

Romano stood in the archway of the living room, a gun in his hand. He immediately dropped it and fell to his knees beside his brother. "Idiota, why didn't you do anything, huh? He could've killed you, fratello!" He pushed Luciano's body onto the floor out of the way. "Feli... You're bleeding... And crying! Why, tell me why!"

His bloodied hand reached out weakly to the dead man by his feet, sobbing uncontrollably and painfully. Every sob hurt and caused more bleeding, but he couldn't stop them. "Luciano... Luciano..." The name escaped between the cries of agony. "Why the hell do you care what happened to him, Feliciano? He almost killed you! Stop crying for the son of a bitch!"

After forcing himself to breathe so he could speak, Italy said above a whisper, "B-but he... He's a part of me... I could have changed him, he could have been different! Everyone can be good, EVERYONE..." Romano enveloped him in a hug, though a gentle one to make sure he didn't hurt his brother more. He sighed deeply.

"You're too damn nice sometimes, mia fratello. You let yourself get hurt all this time just because you thought your abuser could change... You held on too long. This man... was a monster. Don't swim an ocean for someone who can't do the same. You couldn't have saved him if you tried."

"But he... he... Luciano..." Italy touched his stomach, to find Lovino's hand applying pressure to the wound there.

"We need to bandage this. You'll live, just let me fix it. Regular doctors would be suspicious of your faster-than-normal recovery."

Feliciano covered his face with his hands. "Okay, Romano..." Was his muffled reply.  
>He was relieved to be rid of that darkness in the back of his mind but there was a price, there always was with these things.<p>

The cost... The cost was regret. He'd failed to change Luciano into a better person and make up for his country's mistakes, but now he never could.

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End notes: Just so you know, I am SUPER PROUD of Luciano's monologue about human fragility and addiction. Normally it takes me a while to think of that stuff. Anyway, hope you liked it, please review!

Welp. This is embarrassing. I just edited this and saw all the weird numbers and gibberish... I deeply apologize. I took some time to erase it all, but it didn't work. So I copied and pasted it into a new file, which makes this the second time I'm posting this. Also, I think I've got a favorite line that really speaks to me personally: when Romano says, "Don't swim an ocean for someone who can't do the same." I often do exactly the opposite, and it just hurts me. I think this story was kind of my way of dealing with that hurt.


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